Against My Better Judgment
by Frost1610
Summary: That scene in the Reading Room from 3x01 re-imagined. One-shot for the moment, maybe more if this little itch in my brain doesn't go away.
1. Chapter 1

It seems my life only has two speeds these days: lightning fast and agonizingly slow. Right now I'd give anything for it to be the latter of the two, but disaster always seems to move in slow motion. I've done what I can for Branch. His life is now in the hands of the more than capable professionals of Durant Memorial…and maybe in the hands of fate, as well, if I believed in that sort of thing.

After my little run in with Mathias and Henry, I finally make my way back to the office. I deposit my hat on the rack in the outer office and make my way into my own office only to find the entirety of my able-bodied staff gathered around the mess I'd made in an earlier fit of rage. I answer their well-intentioned questions and ask Ruby to get a lawyer on the phone. I foolishly think I'll be left to my own devices when Vic starts giving orders to get the others to disperse. Instead she closes the door to my office and the rather one-sided interrogation begins.

"What happened?" She asks. "And don't give me any of that monosyllabic, Gary Cooper crap. Talk to me." She demands. And she definitely means business. This is the part of my feelings for my deputy that I can't resolve. She's so unlike…well everything I'd ever known I wanted in a woman. In this way she is Martha's polar opposite and no matter how hard I try, I can't wrap my mind around it.

The ensuing conversation is not one I'd ever wanted, or even thought I would have, with Vic. For some reason, I've lost all control of my mouth and the words come tumbling out against my better judgment.

"My wife didn't die of cancer," I sigh. "She was murdered by a meth head named Miller Beck."

I fully expect to see pity, but Vic quickly schools her features, and for that I am grateful. I don't think I could take it if I had to see that look in her eyes.

"Wow…um…I'm so sorry." She's lost for words. It's okay. I have been, too, for the most part. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" She questions.

The words just keep spilling out.

"Miller Beck turned up dead a few months back. Henry was just arrested for his murder."

"Henry?" She asks, just as shocked as I was.

"Yeah, but he didn't do it." I should have known that this statement would elicit the next question she asks.

"And you know that how?"

"It's alright, Vic." I try to reassure. "I didn't kill anyone"

"Then whose blood is that?" She doesn't believe me but she's trying not to sound accusatory.

I look down at my shirt, having forgotten that I am still covered in Branch's blood. The answer to her question is going to require more answers than I have patience for, but ignoring her would be a far worse fate.

"Oh, it's, um…it's Branch's."

Before she can ask any more questions, I bolt from my office and make a beeline for the Reading Room. You would think that I would know by now that I can't just run away. I'm stuck back in my own head and Vic's voice seems a million miles away now as she calls my name. Predictably, Vic follows me into the Reading Room. I pull the tin badge from my shirt and set it on the sink before stripping out of my jacket and shirt. Vic's still asking questions and I'm back on autopilot as I respond.

Vic is suddenly quiet for a moment, and it's then that I realize she's seen the scars on my back. The ones from Denver that only Henry and I know the origin of. Finally she snaps herself out of it because she's back to asking me questions about Branch. I wash my hands and pull on a new shirt. She watches as I try to fasten the buttons. The adrenaline has finally started to wear off and my hands are shaking so badly that I can't even thread the buttons through the holes. It's one of the things I hate about these khaki uniform shirts. Not to mention that they're stiff and itchy if you're not wearing an undershirt.

When it's clear that I'm getting frustrated, Vic steps forward and puts her hands over mine. My first reaction is to pull away from her, but I temper it. She gently moves my hands and I watch as she pushes the buttons through their holes with deft fingers. They only thing that gives away anything about her state of mind is the very slight tremor I notice as she fastens the last buttons. If I hadn't been looking, I'd never have seen it.

Next she picks up the tin badge. The one I'm not sure I'm fit to wear these days. I think maybe I should have dropped out and let Branch run unopposed. I could have retired quietly. It's not like I've been doing a very good job of protecting those whom I've been elected to protect. I can't even protect my closest family and friends; forget about my deputies. Vic obviously isn't on the same train of thought that I am. She pushes the pin through the stiff material over my heart and fastens it without sticking me, which is more than I'm capable of some days.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She seems to sense this and I watch her eyes rake up my body. I try to tamp down the fire her gaze ignites to no avail. I might have been able to rein it in if I hadn't noticed her very slight hesitation at my lips. That's what does me in, really. Her gaze burns bright as she meets mine. I see everything I've done my best to ignore these last couple years. I have no right to these feelings, but here they are. I'm so tired of fighting; so I decide that I'm not going to do it anymore and I lean in to kiss her.

A quiet grunt escapes her lips as I kiss her. I think I've been too rough, or worse, that I've misread the signs all along and this was the wrong move. Heat rushes to my face and I start to pull away as the worst-case scenarios starting winding their way through my unquiet mind. Much to my surprise, the hand on the star over my heart grabs at the fabric of my shirt and pulls me closer. Her other hand reaches up to stroke my cheek and all my worries fade away.

Vic doesn't try to push. She's patient and inviting; two words I wouldn't ordinarily use to describe her. I have a visceral need to taste her and she doesn't fight me. She lets me explore her mouth before taking her own turn. I'm rewarded with a tiny gasp as I nip at her bottom lip and soothe the sting away with my tongue. I feel like I could melt into her at this moment and I truly want to. The problem is that, just like in my dreams, the real world gets in the way. The truth is that I still have no idea who shot Branch. I have no idea where to even start looking. Henry's life is hanging in the balance and I am utterly powerless. And now I'm quite certain that I've just opened an entire can of worms by kissing my deputy, rather suggestively, in the office bathroom. I've literally laid all of my cards out on the table and now I'm left hoping it doesn't blow up in my face.

She must notice that I seem distracted because she pulls away first. Her hand lingers on my cheek and her thumb traces my bottom lip. I see something I can't identify in her eyes. It's uncertainty mixed with something else. I want so badly to erase that fear, but right now there are more pressing matters to attend to.

"Vic, I…"

She shakes her head and moves her hand over my mouth, so I stop. She steps up on her tiptoes and kisses the corner of my mouth. I try to turn my head to meet her lips again, but she's gone again before I can get there.

"You should go…try to figure this out." She's all business again. Her ability to switch seamlessly and instantaneously between being a woman and being my deputy ignites a whole new fire in my gut. I want to kiss her all over again, but she's right, I need to figure out who shot Branch.

"I'm gonna need a ride." I look sheepishly at Vic. To her credit she doesn't question me, but I see her make a quick assessment of herself in the mirror.

"We're going to need to leave out of the back exit." She says pointedly.

It's then that I realize that her face is red from beard burn. Martha used to complain that I didn't shave often enough and that kissing me could often be equated with kissing the hind end of a porcupine. It seems old habits die hard and my day and a half beard has made its presence known on Vic's face. She steps around me and splashes cold water on her face to soothe the burn away.

I leave the Reading Room to retrieve her duty jacket. When I return, she's looking more put together and again I marvel at her ability to compartmentalize. She thanks me for her jacket and we slink out the private entrance to Durant Memorial.


	2. Chapter 2

_Ok, so that itch just won't go away. I suppose I forgot to mention in the first chapter that I stole some dialogue and I own nothing. I have no idea how far this story will go. I don't usually publish until I've got the story at least completely planned out. So I have no end game here other than that this story will obviously depart from the episode in which it originated. We'll see what happens._

 _Also, this is like 2500 words and I feel like I still didn't get anywhere, so there will be more. Walt's head is an interesting place._

* * *

The ride to Durant Memorial is silent except for the radio Vic insists on listening to despite the ever-present static. She says nothing about what just went down in the bathroom and I'm honestly a little surprised. It makes me wonder if she's regretting the whole exchange. I would feel worse about it if she hadn't followed me into the Reading Room, but she did, and so I don't.

As soon as Barlow sees me he's on the warpath. I can hear him speaking, but the words are lost on me. My only concern if making sure Branch survives this so I can figure out who's responsible. I know in my gut that Nighthorse has something to do with this, but I need some actual physical proof. That suspicion is only bolstered by Dr. Weston's revelation that he found a crow feather in the wound. I hadn't noticed it as I sewed him up, but I wasn't really looking either. After being brought up to speed on Branch's injuries and chances of recovery I make my way to his room.

As I wait outside Branch's room I hear Barlow tell him he'd just as soon tell me to piss off before Branch answers any of my questions. True to form, though, Branch does agree to answer my questions and what he has to say comes as something of a shock. David Ridges is dead. We've all seen the tape. It makes me wonder if that crow feather was laced with something, but I keep it to myself.

Vic follows me back out into the corridor and waits as I talk to Dr. Weston again. I confirm that he's not on anything that should make him hallucinate and ask the doctor to run tests for things that might cause hallucinations. Vic once again joins me as Dr. Weston takes his leave and we walk out of Durant Memorial much the way we walked in: silent.

Vic hasn't said much of anything since her direction that we'd need to leave out the back entrance. There have been no sarcastic comments or talking for the sake of filling the silence. It's so unlike her and it makes me wonder if she doesn't know what to say or if she's so disgusted there really isn't anything for her to say.

We pile into the truck and she doesn't ask me where I need to go. She just starts driving. I recognize the surroundings and realize that we're headed out to the casino. She must know I think Nighthorse is somehow responsible. I'm thankful that I don't have to give any direction. At this point I think if I had to say anything, everything would just come tumbling out and we just don't have time for that right now.

She stands Sentinel at the edge of the tent as I talk to Jacob. As usual his explanation is full of lies and half-truths or a mix of something in between. He swears up and down that Ridges is dead. He lit the funeral pyre himself and there's no way he could have been the one to shoot Branch. Nighthorse even goes to far as to place the blame on Branch himself for daring to step onto sacred land after he'd been warned off. In the end, I leave even angrier than I arrived. It seems like I have even fewer answers than I started with. Vic must sense my mood, because she doesn't say anything until we get back to the truck.

"You think Ridges is really dead?" She asks.

"I don't know what to think," I sigh, "but Branch seemed pretty certain it was Ridges."

"Not that hard to fake a suicide, Walt."

"No it's not, especially if you've got Nighthorse helping you."

We lapse into silence again. I reach over to turn the radio off, but think better of it since we're in her truck. All of a sudden I don't know what to do with my hands, or anything else for that matter. I watch her as well as I can without arousing suspicion, but she's not giving anything up. We're almost back in to Durant before I come up with the fortitude to say something to her.

"Vic, I…"

She interrupts, "look, I have somewhere I have to be at 4. I'm going to drop you off at the station. Do you think Ferg can give you a ride home?"

"Uh…yeah. That's fine."

I want to ask her where it is she has to be, but I don't.

A few minutes later we pull up to the station. She doesn't say anything to me. She doesn't even look at me. So I get out of the truck and make my way upstairs. I'm really not in the mood to talk to anyone, so I go in through the private entrance. I call Ruby and let her know I'm in, but I don't want any calls unless it's urgent. Of course, when you're the sheriff, everyone thinks his or her problem is urgent. I'm lucky in that Ruby is a pro at weeding out the things that can be delegated to my deputies.

I pick up the folder on David Ridges and scan through it. I can't concentrate enough to make sense of any of it. I think I should have Ferg watch the video with me again and see if we can see if anything is amiss. I don't think I have the patience for it right now. I look at the stack of paperwork Ruby has left me that requires approval and signature. I make it through a grand total of three reports, all written by Vic, and I find I can't concentrate on that either. My mind keeps wandering back to that kiss. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to go in the Reading Room again without reliving it in lurid detail. It's making me ache in places that I should most definitely not be aching in when I think about my deputy.

I shake my head as if I can physically shake the image out of my brain. It doesn't work. I pick up another sheet out of the pile. This one is a vacation request. It's been so long since I've seen one that I don't recognize it at first. The name on the form is Victoria Moretti. She's requesting three days off the following week. My mind obviously goes for the worst possible scenario: a getaway with her husband. I know it's not my place to interfere. I don't have any right to feel the way I feel, but here we are.

I sign the form. I can't reasonably deny her the time off. She's never even taken so much as a sick day in the time she's been here. That form is a catalyst and I steadily make my way through the remaining paperwork because it's easier than thinking about what she needs that time off for.

Once I'm done I pick up the phone and dial Omar. I need a ride and I don't want to ask Ferg. Omar is his usual lewd self. I was only looking for a ride, but he's already gotten wind of the truck situation and offers to loan me one of his until I can get mine back. Despite his flaws, he's a loyal friend, and twenty minutes later I'm on the road.

I'm not sure what possesses me to stop by The Pony, but I do. Henry's not there and it seems strange. Henry's in jail and that is strange. Dina is tending bar. I'll never understand why Henry trusts her, but that line of questioning only leads to an argument, so I gave up on that a long time ago. I wave as I pass by and head into the kitchen. I pull out the supplies for two burgers and two orders of fries, plus a little extra because Vic always eats some of mine too. Twenty minutes later I've got it all put together and loaded into to-go containers in a paper bag. I clean up after myself and leave a twenty on the counter. I don't really want to have a conversation with Dina tonight.

When I pull up to Vic's house, Sean's truck isn't parked in the driveway and for that I'm grateful. The porch light isn't on, but there are lights on in the house so I knock. When there's no answer I knock one more time before I decide this was a stupid idea and turn around the head back to my truck.

"Walt?" I hear her call my name as I'm getting back into my loaner.

I look up to find her standing on her front porch in shorts and a tank top. Her hair is wet like she's just gotten out of the shower. That familiar ache is back. The one I have no right to. I close the door and walk back up to her porch.

"Whose truck?" she asks.

"Omar's." That answer earns me an eye roll. Omar is not her favorite person, but she tolerates him.

"What's in the bag?"

I look down at my hand because I've apparently forgotten that I have a bag of food. "Dinner?" It comes out as a question, but I don't mean for it to.

I see something in her eyes, but it's fleeting and I'm not sure if I really saw it. She takes the bag from me and opens the front door and holds it open for me. Once we're inside she goes into the kitchen and grabs a couple plates and beers. I stay standing, stuck in place as I take in the boxes and half-empty shelves.

"You gonna come in and eat? Or is all of this for me?"

"Yeah." It's not really an answer, but it's all I can manage under the circumstances.

We eat in companionable silence. As expected, she steals fries from my plate, even though I made extra for her. Once I'm done with my burger I drain my beer. I'm nervous, but I can't put my finger on why.

"Walt, say something."

I know I look like a deer in the headlights, but my mouth literally refuses to form the words. She's trying hard to school her features, but I can feel the irritation rolling off of her in waves.

"Fine, I'll start. You kissed me. In the bathroom. At work."

Well, there's not really any room for argument with that assessment.

"Vic, I…" This seems to be all I can get out in her presence.

"I swear to god, if you tell me you're sorry, you really are going to be sorry."

"I'm not sorry I kissed you." I finally say. I think I see relief on her face, but I'm not positive.

"But?" She asks.

"You're married. And you're my deputy. And I shouldn't have done that at work." These are all valid points.

"Okay. I'll give that it probably should have happened at work." She concedes.

I watch as she picks at a string on her shorts. And it's then that I realize that she's not wearing her wedding band. This isn't unusual at work, but any time I've seen her outside of work, she's always worn it. I reach out to take her left hand and my fingers stroke over her ring finger.

After a few moments she pulls away and walks into the kitchen. Before I can decide if I should follow her, she returns with a big yellow envelope. She hands it to me.

"That appointment I had at four today." That's all the explanation she gives.

I wonder if I'm supposed to open it and she nods as if she's reading my mind. I unwind the little red string holding the flap down and pull out the contents. I look up at her before I read the paperwork. She gives me a watery smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. I look down at the paperwork and flip over the first page to reveal a title page that states that this bundle of paperwork is a Decree of Divorce.

I look up so fast I think I've just given myself whiplash. The tears that were threatening to fall have won out.

"That takes care of two of your problems," she sniffs. "And the county doesn't have a policy against interoffice relationships. So that takes care of that too."

She crosses her arms, hugging them against her body. This isn't what I want. I mean, I do want this, but not like this. Not at the expense of her marriage. I reach out and pull her into my lap and she sobs silently into my neck. I can feel her tears burning a trail down my neck.

"I'm sorry, Vic."

She looks up at me, still a little watery. "Why? I'm not."

Her tears tell a different story.

"I just feel like such a failure. It seems like I can't make any relationship work. I mean, Sean and I, we were never meant to last. We were too different. But he was safe when I needed that. He never liked that I was a cop. When we moved out here he seemed happy that my law enforcement career was pretty much over. And then you came along. You hired me despite the little temper tantrum I had about the application in the office. He hated you. Hates you. You know he thought there was something going on between us? Tried to make it an issue at mediation so he wouldn't have to pay alimony. Turns out he didn't actually have any proof because there was none. I think he hated the small town cop life even more than he hated me working in Philly."

"So what are you going to do now?" I ask, motioning toward the boxes. I know it's a selfish question, but I can't help it.

"House belongs to Newett." She puts her face back into my neck. "I have to be out at the end of the month. Sean's paying for movers to move it into an apartment, but I have to box it all up."

That must be the three days off she requested. Now I feel like an ass. I am an ass. What kind of man kisses his deputy, whom he assumes is still married, in the office bathroom? I'm absently rubbing her back when I feel her lips on my neck. Instantly that aching longing is back. To my relief, she doesn't go any further. I'm not sure I would be able to stop us if she did. I'm not sure I would want to.


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay so here's 2200 more words and I still feel like I'm getting nowhere. There will probably be one or two more chapters. Three at most. But I have a sick kiddo and I'm having surgery so updates may take a bit, but I promise they're coming. Unless of course you want me to put me out of your misery and just stop now. :)  
_

* * *

Vic's phone starts buzzing on the coffee table. She doesn't make a move to get it, but I can see the caller ID says "Ferg." I do my best contortionist act in an attempt to grab the phone without letting go of her.

"It's Ferg." I say. "Could be important."

She pulls away just far enough to swipe right and put the phone up to her ear.

"This is Vic." She still sounds a little waterlogged, but mostly she just sounds tired.

I can hear Ferg on the other end, but I can't hear what he's saying. I watch Vic as she listens intently. I brush the strands of hair that have fallen out of her braid back behind her ear. She leans into my hand so her cheek is resting in my palm.

"Okay. I'll get ahold of Walt and let him know."

She sets the phone back down on the table.

"Ferg says there's something going on out at the Res out where Branch was shot. Something about a bunch of guys all painted white?" She seems confused.

"White Warriors." I sigh.

"White Warriors?"

"Henry calls them the Cheyenne brand of religious extremists."

She gives me a look.

"Henry could explain it better." _If he were here._ But I don't add that part. "Listen, this is probably our best shot at getting an ID. I'm going to have to go talk to Mathias. I know he won't round them up, but maybe I can at least convince him to let Branch have a look."

"And you're counting on what? His belief in the greater good? Because right now I'd say you're pretty much _persona non grata_ on the Res."

"Well, we've at least got to try."

I send Vic over to the hospital to pick up Branch while I head over to Mathias' house. As expected, he is not happy to see me. But I suspect his dislike for Jacob Nighthorse and his contingency of "warriors" outweighs his dislike for me at the moment. Or he's taking pity on me for everything that's gone on in the last 48 hours. Either way, I'll take it.

Branch is definitely looking worse for wear when he gingerly exits Vic's truck. The band of White Warriors is lined up with their hands zip tied behind their backs. I watch as Branch scans their faces."

"He's not here." Branch breathes.

"Take another look," I urge.

"I know it was Ridges, Walt."

Mathias starts cutting zip ties and letting them go. I urge Branch to take a long look and be absolutely sure the person who shot him isn't here. He still insists that it's Ridges. It's then that I tell him that I had Dr. Weston analyze the ashes collected from the crime scene and that Ridges' DNA was most definitely in there. It goes nowhere. He's so stuck on Ridges that he's not willing to believe anything other than what he thinks he saw. I can't really contain my irritation anymore.

"I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, I wanted to come out here, examine the crime scene, chase down every lead. But he's dead, Branch. David Ridges is dead. You imagined him. So, if you were shot by a White Warrior, you probably just let him go."

He nods.

I don't know what to think anymore. I want to believe him, but the evidence just doesn't add up. I help Vic get him loaded back into the truck. He looks miserable and I hate to think that I had a part in that, but there are so many things going on that I can't control right now. I give Ferg the keys to Omar's truck and tell him to park it at the station and I'll come get it. I climb in with Vic and Branch.

The ride back to Durant Memorial is silent. When we arrive back on the floor I'm met with some side-eyed glances and a stern talking to from the charge nurse. It seems I have a bit of a reputation around here and she seems to think I'm wearing off on my staff. Once Branch is settled in, Vic and I head out.

Vic turns to go out to the cabin. I don't remind her that my truck is at the station. I'm not sure if this is deliberate on either of our parts. When she pulls up she doesn't put the truck in Park. But she doesn't look eager to kick me out either. It's close to midnight now and by the time she gets home and to bed it will be close to 1. I suppose that's how I justify my next move.

"You should just stay here tonight."

Radio silence. Even the static is gone. She doesn't even look at me and now I'm sure I've made a grave miscalculation.

"You can have the bed, I've spent many a night on that couch. It's comfortable."

She at least looks at me now.

"You don't need to do this, Walt. I'm a big girl. I can make it home."

"Of that I have no doubt. But it's late. You have to be up early. And we've had an unusually large amount of car versus wild animal calls recently." I remind her.

She sighs. I'm not sure if it's because she doesn't want to stay. Or it she thinks it's a bad idea to stay. Or if she's indifferent. She's never been difficult to read, but right now I'm completely lost.

After what feels like the longest minute of my life, Vic puts the truck in Park and pulls the keys out of the ignition. She reaches behind the seat and grabs her go bag before following me into the cabin. She sets her stuff down on the end of the couch.

"I'm not kicking you out of your bed, Walt."

"Really, Vic. I'm fine with the couch. Honestly, I sleep out here most nights anyway." I don't think the reason for that escapes her. It's hard to sleep in a bed alone when you shared it with someone for 25 years. Even a new mattress hasn't filled that void. I watch her for a moment before it occurs to me that a permanently empty bed is much newer for her than it is for me. "Well, if you change your mind…" And I leave it at that.

I offer her the bathroom first and when she's done I head in and shut the door for the night, giving her some privacy. I toss and turn in my bed for a while. I'm not sure if it's because I hate sleeping in this bed alone or if it's because I know she's just outside the door. When I finally look at the clock again it's only 1:30. I sigh and scrub my hands over my face. It's going to be a long night and an even longer day. I finally come to terms with the fact that I'm not getting any sleep tonight and I pull on an old Marine Corps sweatshirt and shove my feet into a pair of old boots. I'm grateful that it's still warm enough out that I can sit on the porch tonight.

I quietly open the door and poke my head out only to find that Vic is not on the couch as I expected. Her bag is still sitting at the end, so I'm pretty sure she's around here somewhere. I grab a blanket out of the basket near the wood stove and head out to the porch. As I suspected she's curled up on the bench at the end of the porch. Insomnia must be contagious.

"Everything alright?" I ask.

Vic nods. "Just couldn't sleep. Too much to think about, I guess."

I sit down behind her on the bench and I want to touch her so badly I feel like my whole body is vibrating. Before I lose all self-control, she leans back into me. I can feel her shivering so I grab the blanket and throw it over the top of her. I adjust so she's leaning into my side and my arm is around her. To my surprise she grabs my hand and threads her fingers through mine. Eventually her breathing evens out and I'm pretty sure she's fallen asleep.

I often wonder if every decision I've ever made, no matter how insignificant, has lead me to this exact moment. Like if I had eaten Cheerios for breakfast the other morning instead of going to the Busy Bee for the usual, would I still be sitting on my porch with this woman in my arms? It's the closest I get to believing in fate, I guess. I know the whole concept seems ridiculous, but I really never thought I'd love anyone again like I loved Martha, so it almost seems like something greater than myself has had a hand in this whole thing. I ponder the intricacies of it while I watch the sun rise.

"I can actually hear you thinking." Vic chuckles as she twists to look at me.

"Not possible." I smile.

She plants a kiss at the edge of my jaw. I know it must feel like sandpaper, because I still haven't shaved. Despite that, she keeps going so I tilt my head and meet her lips. We still haven't really talked about this thing that happened in the Reading Room, but we keep doing it. I think maybe it's better this way. We can't talk ourselves out of it if we just don't talk about it. She touches my face, fingers scraping over the stubble and pulling me closer. I adjust a little more and pull her into my lap so she's straddling my thighs. I know this is a bad idea, but I'm certainly not going to stop now. Our tongues meet, but it's slow and gentle, unlike earlier. My hands are on her hips, but my fingers are searching for skin just under her t-shirt. She moans a little into my mouth as my calloused fingers find sensitive skin at her waist. If this continues, she's going to become acutely aware of my _interest_ sooner rather than later.

As though she can actually hear me thinking, she pulls away a little and leans her forehead against mine. We stay that way for a while as I try to calm myself down. After a few more minutes she kisses my cheek and slides off of my lap, leaving me with my dignity intact.

"What time is it anyway?" She asks.

I check my watch. "Just before 7."

"Shit, Walt! I'm going to be late!" She starts to get up.

I slip an arm around her waist and pull her back. "I think I can convince your boss to let it slide, just this once."

"Hilarious. Really. But don't you think Ferg and Ruby are going to realize we're _both_ late? Your truck is still at the station."

So she did remember the truck was at the station. I'm not sure what to do with that information, but right now I'm in damage control mode because Vic is essentially 'freaking out' as she would call it.

"It's fine. Really, Vic, it is. I already told Ruby I was taking you with me to Tri-County this morning to see Henry. We just decided to go before we came into the office. Not unbelievable and it will be true in the end."

She gives me a look I can't really identify the meaning of, but she doesn't fight me.

"I need to go home and shower then. I'll be back to pick you up in an hour." She still sounds a little distressed.

"Vic it's fine." I stand and pull her back against me. Maybe this is why we need to talk about it. Maybe we've crossed a line. Or maybe I've crossed a line. She doesn't pull away, so I count that as a win. Then she surprises me by leaning her forehead against my chest and looping her arms around my waist. "You have clothes in your bag, right?"

She nods.

"Just shower here and we can get going. This is no different than any other morning you've had to pick me up out here to go somewhere for the day."

"Except for the part where we hadn't spent the night together all those other times." Her voice is muffled as she talks into my chest.

I sigh. This is what I was trying to avoid. "Vic, I'm sorry if this made you un—"

She shakes her head. "I'm not uncomfortable, Walt."

"Then what?" I ask.

"I just don't want to screw this up." She admits.

I smile and bend down to kiss her again. We're more alike in this than either of us realizes.

"Go." I kiss her again. "Get in the shower or we're never going to get out of here."

I head inside after her to get coffee started and prepare myself for the day.


	4. Chapter 4

_Oh hey, guys! Sorry it's been a little longer than I anticipated. But here we are…3000 words later…and I think we finally got somewhere. I feel like I could probably end the story with this chapter (which really probably could have and should have been two chapters, but I digress), but I also feel like I could keep going. So we'll see, I suppose. This maybe gets a little toward the T+ end of things, but nothing so explicit that it needs to be M. I did borrow some dialogue (they just do it so much better than I do!) and I don't own any of the characters, etc…_

* * *

"It can be hard to make friends on your first day of jail."

"Really, that's what you're going to lead with?" I ask him. "What happened?"

"Oh, just getting reacquainted with Malachi Strand's particular brand of justice."

"We're going to get you out of here. Cady is working on the public defender situation."

"And Dina?" I can see it pains him to ask this.

"Gone." I shrug. "Cady said she didn't show up for her shift this morning and no one has been able to get ahold of her."

"I should not be surprised." He shakes his head.

Now isn't the time for me to remind him that I was right about her. That part will come later. For now, I need to figure out how to get him out of here before Malachi gets him killed.

"Time's up!" The guard yells over the intercom.

"Cady will be in with the lawyer tomorrow. Just try to hang in there."

"I will do my best."

I meet Vic back in the waiting room. For some reason she wasn't allowed to wait in the viewing area while I talked with Henry. I suspect Malachi has more pull here than he should. Some things will never change, and unfortunately corruption in law enforcement is one of those things.

"How's Henry?" She asks.

I sigh.

"That good, huh?"

"Malachi and his thugs have definitely made their impression on him." There's not much more to say about it than that so we head out to the truck.

Vic has a tendency to leave her right arm resting on the center console when she drives on the highway. Impulsively, I grab her hand and thread my fingers through hers. She glances at me for a moment before returning her focus to the road. Her thumb strokes over mine a few times, offering what comfort she can from this position. Shortly before we get back in to Durant I pull my hand away and retreat back onto my side of the line.

Vic drops me off at the office and leaves out to do speed trap duty. She'll be gone most of the day and I try not to be disappointed about that. I greet Ferg and Ruby as I make my way through the office. It's been a quiet morning so far. Hopefully it stays that way. Ruby asks after Henry, but she doesn't push when I don't say much. I'm grateful for that. I sit down at my desk and go through my post-it note messages and any lingering paperwork.

Later in the afternoon I get a call from the shop that my truck is ready to pick up. I call Omar to thank him for the loaner and let him know I'll leave his truck at the shop. I get a requisition form from Ruby for the work and head over to get the Bronco. By the time I'm done, it's quitting time and I head over to The Red Pony for dinner and a chat with my daughter.

When I get to The Pony Cady is livid. The lawyer who was supposed to represent Henry was reassigned at the last minute and some oaf who barely passed the Bar was substituted in his place. Cady talks about representing Henry herself, but her experience is not in criminal law. She seems just as stressed out as I am by this whole thing. I don't tell her about Henry's run in with Malachi's gang. It would only serve to make her more upset.

After my third beer, Cady cuts me off and hands me a glass of water and a plate of food. She mentions something about me having to drive home. I will forever be grateful to Cady for putting off her own career and her own life to take care of me when her mother died. I sometimes feel guilty, like I'm holding her back. But, much like Vic, she is not a woman who does things she doesn't want to do. Once I've eaten and had another glass of water I'm left to my own devices. It's nearly nine o' clock and I'm tired, but I don't want to go back to the empty cabin. So back to the empty office it is.

Shortly after I settle into my desk to read through case files I here the click of the outer door as it opens and shuts again. Out of habit I reach for my side arm and quietly move to the doorway. I only have the desk lamp on in my office, so it's possible that whoever is here doesn't know that I'm also here. I hear a familiar sigh and realize it's Vic in the outer office. I reholster my gun and pull the door the rest of the way open to find her sitting on the bunk in one of the cells.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

Vic startles as if she didn't realize I was here.

"Uh yeah… Just got done late and didn't feel like going back home."

I make my way over to her and sit down on the bunk. I lift a hand to touch her still-damp hair, but she flinches, so I pull it away.

"Vic—" I start, but she cuts me off.

"I wasn't entirely honest with you about why we left Philly."

I don't say anything and she seems to take this as a sign that she should keep talking.

"At my old precinct there was a cop named Bobby Donolato who was caught up in some really dark stuff. I, um, reported him. There was an investigation and he blew his brains out in his bathtub. They blamed me for everything, especially his partner Ed Gorski."

"The ex-cop who showed up a few weeks back?"

"Yeah, him. Anyway, I could never prove it but he started leaving bullet casings in my locker and on my car. Sean started talking to his company about getting a transfer out here, more or less for my protection."

"And this all adds up to you sleeping on a bunk in a holding cell?"

"Ed's stalking me. He's broken into my car and my house." She pauses for a moment. "When I went to take a shower tonight there was a bite taken out of the bar of soap."

"Like someone broke a chunk off?" I ask.

"No, like he physically took a bite out of the soap. Teeth marks and everything." Her voice catches and I want so badly to hold her and tell it's going to be okay, but I really have no idea how she'd respond to that right now.

"I can't let you stay here, Vic."

"You sleep here just about every other night." She argues. I wonder how she knows that and if all of them know and just haven't said anything.

"No, that's not what I mean." I backpedal. "I, uh… You, uh, should just come home with me. Gorski doesn't know where I live."

She nods, but doesn't say anything more.

"Let me grab my jacket and we can go."

More silence.

We're about halfway to the cabin before she speaks again.

"Ed wasn't just a co-worker who went batshit after I turned in his partner." She clears her throat, "we had a thing. An affair, I guess. He was married, but I didn't know it at the time. He's the one who sent the flowers and the photos that had 'apartment 32' written on the back."

I keep quiet as we pull up the gravel drive. When I park, neither of us makes a move to get out of the Bronco.

"I just feel like I keep making the same mistakes…like I have a…"

"Pattern?" I offer.

"Yeah." I can hear the sadness creeping into her voice. "I don't want to keep making the same mistakes…fucking everything up as I go."

"Vic." I try to will the pain out of my own voice, "This…us…we, uh…this doesn't have to be anything if that's not what you want."

She nods and my heart sinks into my stomach.

I pull my keys out of the ignition and open the door to get out. I make my way to the back of the Bronco, fully expecting Vic to head up to the cabin. As I fumble through my keys, looking for the one that locks the tailgate, she walks around the back of the truck and drops her bag on the gravel next to my feet. Before I can question her actions she has handfuls of my jacket in her fists and she's pulling me down to meet my lips. I flip the tailgate down and lift her up onto it, dropping my keys in the bed behind her.

As soon as she's up, her legs are wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. I sweep my tongue into her mouth and my hands wander with a mind of their own, looking anywhere for bare skin. Her hands are still grasping handfuls of my jacket as if she's afraid I'll get away. I feel a single tear slide down her cheek and I pull away just enough so our lips aren't quite touching anymore.

"Vic, we don't have to do this." I'm half panting and even I can hear the pain in my voice this time.

"It's not that." She sniffs, "I do want this. I want you. I just…I don't want you to be just another fuck up, because that's all I seem to be capable of these days."

I pull her back into me and she buries her face in my neck. I move just enough so my forehead is resting on top of her head. "All I want is for you to be happy, Vic." This part is true. "Even if it means not being with you." This part is not so true. I use my thumb to brush that single tear away.

I didn't outright ask her to stay when her husband told her she needed to quit her job. I know now that I was wrong. I did ask her to stay when she told me Sean had taken a transfer to Australia despite not knowing they were divorcing. I had no right to ask her to stay, but that didn't stop me. And now I'm telling her I just want her to be happy, whether or not it's with me. No wonder she's confused. I can't even make up my own mind. I shake my head as if I can physically clear my mind. Vic gives me her 'what the hell' look.

"Vic, I uh, want you to stay…here…in Durant…with me. I want you to be happy. I want you to be with me, if that's what makes you happy. You're not screwing everything up, not even close. After Martha….I was in a fog for a long time and nothing seemed to make it dissipate. But you showed up in my office that afternoon and swore at that application and walked out without finishing it, and I knew I couldn't let you go. This isn't some fling in Apartment 32. It could never be that for me, and I think you know that. I want you, Vic. I want you in my life and if that means that you stay here and you're just my deputy…and uh, maybe my friend, then so be it. I'll take what I can get. But I've wanted you…wanted this…longer than I've had a right to. And I think you have too."

She looks a little stunned and I'm not sure if that's good or bad.

"Do you realize that's the most you've ever said to me at one time?" She smiles so I know she's teasing, but she's also right. I don't know what it is about this woman that makes me unable to control what comes out of my mouth.

I'm not sure what that answer means, but I take my chances and lean in to kiss her again. When she returns that kiss, I let myself believe that maybe I might just catch a break, just this once.

Her lips are soft and warm against mine. There are no more tears and I hope that means we finally have this thing figured out. Her legs wrap around the backs of my thighs, pulling me in again. The hands that once held on to my jacket are now inside it sliding over my chest and up my neck into my hair. My hands have settled back at her waist brushing over the bare skin I've found there. Vic shivers against me and I realize that it's really not all that warm out here.

"We should move this party inside." She whispers into my ear. "Public indecency and all that, though it's not an election year so I think we could get away with it." A soft giggle escapes and I think that I'd like to hear that sound out of her every day for the rest of our lives.

I pull away and bend down to pick up her bag as she hops down off the tailgate. She picks up my forgotten keys and locks the gate before threading her fingers through mine as we make our way inside.

Vic takes her bag and heads for the bathroom. When she emerges she's dressed in sweatpants and an old Flyers t-shirt and she's never been more beautiful. We trade places and I take my turn changing and brushing my teeth. I expect to find her on the couch when I come back out; instead she's in the kitchen standing in front of the sink and drinking a glass of water.

I pad into the kitchen and stretch my arms around her to grab the edge of the counter on either side of her. It feels comfortable and familiar, like we've been doing this for years. I kiss the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and make my way up to that spot behind her ear. I watch her reflection in the window as her eyes drift closed and she leans back into me. The way she's pressing back against me leaves no doubt that she's definitely aware of my current situation. I feel the heat rise up my neck to the tips of my ears. Before I can die of embarrassment, Vic turns and loops her arms around my neck. She kisses the underside of my jaw and the corner of my mouth before she meshes her lips to mine. And then it's on.

Vic's hands slide down over my shoulders and chest while her tongue traces along my lips, coaxing them open. When her fingers find the edge of my t-shirt, she lifts it enough to give me the hint that she wants it off. I reach behind my shoulder and grab a handful of t-shirt to pull it off one-handed. My other hand is busy sliding up the front of her shirt while our tongues duel for dominance. As soon as my shirt is discarded her hands are all over skimming across my shoulders, chest, and abs before finding the waistband of my sweat pants.

I slide my hands down her sides and find the edge of her shirt to pull it up and over her head. I move her bra strap aside and kiss along her collarbone as she pushes her hips into mine. Her hands finally move further south of the waistband of my sweatpants and I swear my eyes roll back up into my head as she runs her over my erection. I involuntarily groan into Vic's mouth as my hips push against her hand and she smiles against my lips. I pull back a little and lean my forehead against hers as I try to catch my breath.

I kiss her again before I plant my hands on her hips and start us moving in the direction of my bedroom. It's a good thing we don't have far to go, because my legs feel like jello and I think if she grabs me again I might have a stroke. Boy howdy, what a way to go.

We laugh between kisses as we run into walls and doorframes. I reach up and unclasp her bra. My hands easily find her breasts despite the dark. It's her turn to let out a groan as my mouth finds them next. Vic starts to push at the waistband of my pants, but she hesitates.

"Walt—"

I can hear the trepidation in her voice and it stings a little. I never want her to think I would reject her. I tilt my head to kiss her, but she doesn't return it.

"Vic—"

"I don't want you to regret it…me."

"I won't." I whisper next to her ear. I have no doubt about this, of the depth of my feelings for her. I'm absolutely sure of what I want—what I need. "We don't have to do this, Vic. But I need you to know that I could never regret this."

I lean my forehead against hers. We're both trying to rein in our breathing now. I want to kiss her and make all those fears go away, but I need her to make this move. And just like that a switch flips. Vic pushes my sweatpants off of my hips and my boxer briefs along with them. She laughs as I trip over my own feet, pinning her beneath me on the bed. I push at her pants and she shimmies out of them while leaning up to kiss me again.

I thought the first time would be explosive—life changing even. And it is. Life changing, that is. But other than that, it's nothing like I expected. It's slow and gentle. Her fingers trace over every scar they can reach, closely followed by her lips. I kiss every inch of skin I can get access to. And when we finally come together I'm surprised I don't black out. There are no declarations of love as we finish together, just the reassurance that we'll always be there for each other, which really isn't much different when you think about it. Afterward I move to the side and she tucks herself in to me. I need this point of contact just as much, if not more, than she does. She's the rock that keeps me grounded and for the first time in a long time, I drift off into a mercifully dreamless sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

_Alright, I'm obviously not going to wrap this up as speedily as I thought I would. My imagination is just running amok. I'm really sorry about the cliffhanger-y ending, but it was really the best place to cut this off. I will do my best to get the rest of this out as fast as I can. I'm sure you've already figured it out, but I've kind of rearranged the timeline to fit into my story. I'm not going to lie to you and pretend like I know how many chapters are left in this. Also, you can blame that new Cole Swindell song "Break Up In The End" and Dierks Bentley and "Woman, Amen" for the puddle of angst this story is trudging through._

* * *

I wake up, disoriented, to an insistent buzzing noise. It takes me a moment to realize that it's light outside and I've slept an entire night, a feat I haven't managed in years—literally. Vic stirs beside me and leans half of her body off the bed to rummage around in her bag. A moment later, the buzzing stops and Vic arches herself back up into the bed and pulls the pillow over her head. I shouldn't be surprised that she's not a morning person.

"What?" She grumbles.

"I didn't say anything."

"I can hear you thinking."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

This conversation is going nowhere. There's no point in negotiating with a terrorist, so I move to get out of bed and start coffee for the hostile subject in my bed. Before I can get too far her hand closes around my wrist and she pulls so I lay back down next to her. I dare to lift the pillow up so I can see her face. Her eyes are closed but she's smiling at me so I chance it and lean down to kiss her. She's rolls to her side, so I keep kissing down her neck and along her collarbone to that hollow at the base of her throat. Vic lets out a low groan, which I assume means she's pleased.

"Do you want coffee?" I ask softly next to her ear.

"Mmmm." I think this an affirmative response. "Not as much as I want you though."

Before I know what's happening, Vic has me rolled on my back and she's straddling my thighs. This is a sight I wouldn't mind seeing more often.

"A lot of my fantasies start this way, you know." She admits.

"Fantasies?"

"Pretty much every time I close my eyes." She's just full of surprising information this morning. She starts kissing up my neck and behind my ear before making her way to my jaw and then my lips. She's moving against me now in a way that most definitely makes her intentions clear.

"What kind of fantasies?" I try desperately to keep my brain functioning long enough to form words.

"Usually in the office, which I suppose isn't much of a fantasy anymore."

I sigh.

"Oh calm down."

That's not really a fair response, given the way she's moving over me now. I swear I'm going to black out. Or embarrass myself.

"Vic."

"It was just a joke, Walt."

She's still moving and I'm not sure how much more I can take.

"Vic."

"Walt." She gives me this wicked grin and I know that she knows exactly what she's doing. I'm not about to let her win this round so I shift and use my leverage to flip her underneath of me.

"Walt!" She yelps.

Two can play at this game. Vic lunges up to grab for me, but before she can get what she wants I pin her arms to the bed above her head. I hold her wrists with one hand and situate myself between her legs to give her what she wants—on my own terms. She writhes beneath me trying to get the angle just right. She lets out a strangled moan as I push forward just enough, but then I pull back right away. To her credit, Vic is being much more patient than I give her credit for. She's still bucking against me a little, but she seems to have figured out that the less she struggles, the more I'll give.

Finally, when I can't take it any longer I release her arms and push forward to slide home. Just like the first time, my whole body feels like it's on fire. Her mouth is hot against mine as she swallows my moans. We're going slowly enough that I can take the time to run my hands over her body. I slide one hand over her hip and up her flat stomach to the curve of her breast. She pushes a hand up my neck into my hair while the other grabs for purchase on my back as she tumbles over the edge, taking me with her.

I try to pull away and lay next to her, but Vic locks one of her legs around mine and holds me in place. I prop myself up on one elbow while I brush hair out of her face with my other hand. She leans up to kiss me while one of her hands strokes lightly over my back.

"Everything okay?" She asks.

"Huh?" I wonder why she's asking, but I realize I've been kind of lost in my own head for a few minutes. "Yeah. Fine. I just keep…I thought this thing between us would be a little more…"

"Explosive?" She offers.

I chuckle. "Something like that, yeah."

"Mmmm." She strokes her fingers over my cheek. "I kind of like the slow burn."

"You do?"

"It's never been like this for me before." She admits. "It's been hurried, quick, dirty, and disappointing. But this—" she waves a hand between us "thing with us. It's like there's no hurry to get there and get it done. Like we could go for hours and I still wouldn't be ready to stop."

She has no idea what she's doing to me right now. Or maybe she does. If we don't get up and get going soon, we're never going to leave this bed. I'm starting to think that wouldn't be such a bad thing and I lean down to kiss her again. She's immediately receptive and we start moving toward round three before her phone starts buzzing again.

"Saved by the bell?" She doesn't sound relieved though. "We need to get moving or we're going to be late."

"I'll go make some coffee if you want to get in the shower."

She looks a little disappointed, but I can't really put my finger on why. I'm halfway into the kitchen before it hits me. Showering with someone is a different kind of intimacy. Despite all the years we were together, it wasn't something Martha and I ever did. In all honesty, the spontaneity of all of this is uncharted territory for me. Sex…intimacy…whatever, was always strategically planned, never on demand.

I head back in to the bedroom and then into the bathroom. I watch her through the clear curtain for a moment before I push my sweat pants off my hips and step under the spray. I see a slow smile spread across her face as she leans her head back on my shoulder. I grab her body wash and lather some up in my hands before spreading it over her back and shoulders. She melts into me as I move my hands around to the front lathering soap over her stomach and breasts. I could do this every day for the rest of my life and it still wouldn't be enough. I don't know how I've lived this long without knowing this kind of pleasure.

Vic is obviously on the same wavelength based on the way she's moving against me now. The problem is, I'm not really sure where to go from here. She seems to recognize my hesitance as inexperience and I momentarily will the earth to open up and swallow me whole right there. My cheeks and the tips of my ears burn with embarrassment. Vic doesn't tease though. Instead, she finishes rinsing the soap off and grabs my left hand and wraps it around her so it's resting on her ribs. My fingers glide over the tattoo there. I move so we're in line as she grabs my right hand and puts it on the wall just above her shoulder.

Round three is quick and vocal and a little more like I always thought we would be. My chest heaves against her back as I try to catch my breath. It's not until she shivers a little that I realize the water is starting to run cold. There is nothing more efficient about showering with another person. Well…maybe not _nothing_.

"You've never done that before." It's a statement.

"I've never done any of this before." I admit as I hand her a towel. "Martha and I…it was…we were…"

Vic stops what she's doing and turns to look at me. There's no judgment on her face, just innocent curiosity.

"And we definitely never did that." My ears are burning.

I tie my towel around my waist and grab the shaving cream and razor. Vic watches with interest as I lather my face and start shaving. When I'm getting close to being done, she grabs a washcloth from the shelf behind her and gets it wet. She pulls on my arm before I can rinse my face. Vic reaches up to wipe the leftover shaving cream off of my face. It's a whole new kind of intimacy that's got my blood boiling. When she's done, she rinses the washcloth and lets go of my arm.

"Walt. If this is too much—"

"No." I interrupt. "It's just…different. It's good though. Just different."

Vic seems to accept that answer and she leaves me to my own devices, as she gets dressed for the day. By the time I'm done getting dressed there's coffee and toast waiting in the kitchen.

"Your pantry didn't exactly leave me with a lot of options." She rolls her eyes.

I take the plate and mug from her and sit down at the table to eat. When I'm finished we pack up to head out. I spend the drive back in to town thinking about Henry. I'm hoping Cady comes back with good news today.

* * *

The day goes by without incident. Branch comes back to work, despite my protestations. I can't rightfully stop him, given my own propensity for coming back to work too soon. Now I find myself at The Red Pony on bartending duty, of all things. For all Henry has done for me, I owe him this, at least. I'm saved from my latest awkward transaction by the ringing phone.

"Uh, beautiful day…Red Pony." I don't know how Henry does this every day.

"Hey, it's me." She says and I feel relief wash over me. "You're going to need to ask for the rest of the night off."

"Right."

Vic gives me directions and I make sure I'm covered to go for the night. When I get to the site I can't find Vic anywhere.

"Vic?!" I yell. "Vic! Hey!"

"She's young, Walt." She yells up to me. "I'm guessing late teens."

I make my way down the bank to her. She looks a little rough around the edges, but I don't ask.

"She's got bruising around her neck, so I'm thinking someone probably strangled her. There's drag marks leading down from the road." She points, but it's too dark for me to see anything from this distance. "What was she thinking? "

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I made a lot of bad decisions when I was her age, but I never hitchhiked."

"How do you know she was hitchhiking?" I'm genuinely curious now.

"How else would you explain this?" She points to the reflective tape. "Cell phone was in her waistband. It's passcode protected. I already tried to unlock it. The only things she had in her pockets were a matchbook, mints and a passport."

"Polina Vasof. Born in Orenburg, Russia. What's a 17 year old Russian girl doing hitchhiking in Absaroka County?"

Vic doesn't answer me. It was a mostly rhetorical question anyway. She seems distracted, but I don't think now is the time to explore that.

The county coroner takes the body and we head out for the night. Vic doesn't say anything to me as she heads out. I expect to meet her back at the office, but she doesn't show. After an hour or so, I head out myself. I drive past her house on my way home. Her truck is in the driveway, but the lights are off. Normally I would let it go, but with Ed Gorski still hanging around, I can't let this be.

I ring the bell and wait. When Vic doesn't answer I knock. Still no answer. Now I'm starting to get concerned. I check her truck. It's locked and there's nothing inside that would indicate there was a struggle. I go back up to the porch and knock again. Finally I see a light turn on and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Walt. What's going on?" She asks sleepily.

She's holding her phone in one hand and it occurs to me then that I could have just called.

"Nothing. I just…you didn't come back to the office. And with the Gorski situation…I just…" I was just trying to justify my paranoia? I'm definitely annoyed with myself now. "Just forget it." I smile.

I turn to walk away, but Vic grabs my arm. I look up at her now; I mean really look at her. Her eyes are red and watery and she looks exhausted. I pull her into my arms and hold her. She's stiff, but she doesn't push me away.

"Vic what's wrong?"

She shakes her head against my chest, but she relaxes into me a little.

"You should come inside."

She pulls away and takes my hand to lead me inside. I take my hat off and lay it brim up on the kitchen counter and drape my jacket over the chair. Vic turns the lights back off and moves back over to me, winding her arms around my waist and laying her head on my chest. After a few more minutes, she pulls away and grabs her phone off of the counter. She navigates through a couple of things before she gets to what she's going to show me.

The texts came earlier this evening, one after another. What I read makes me furious.

 _So I guess it wasn't just me_

 _You'll sleep your way to the top anywhere_

 _Is that why you couldn't make it with Sean_

 _I never pegged you for the type that would have a thing for cowboys_

The last message came while we were out at the crime scene earlier tonight.

 _He's next_

Vic is tough, and as a general rule, she doesn't take things personally. But she's her own harshest critic. So if she thinks she's at fault for something, I can guarantee she'll beat herself up over it. She won't even look at me now, so I know Ed's left his mark. If I knew it wouldn't just make matters worse, I'd end him myself.

"Do you want me to leave?"

For the first time in the three years I've known her, I watch Vic lie to me.

She nods. "You should go."


	6. Chapter 6

_I borrowed some more dialogue, I own nothing (except my own bad ideas), etc..._

I never imagined a scenario in which I would find myself threatening the life of Ed Gorksi. But here I am, sitting in his hotel room.

"Can I help you?" He has the audacity to ask. I know he knows who I am.

"We men are wretched things."

"We are? Says who?" He's definitely a self-assured prick.

"Achilles. About 3,000 years ago." I'm already losing my patience. "You read the Illiad?"

"I'm familiar with the classics."

"But have you read it, Ed? Interpretations vary." I can hear the edge in my voice. "I think it's a poem about a man's destructive rage. Achilles was a warrior. He had a partner, a fellow warrior. A friend. There's no greater enemy than the mortal enemy of a friend."

"I would not disagree with that." He's becoming uneasy. Good.

"So Achilles confronted his friend's great enemy. Achilles gave the man one warning. There is no weapon, no army that could protect this enemy from the sheer hell that is Achilles' rage."

"And what happened to this enemy?" 

"Achilles ran his sword through the man's guts and dragged his dead body around the town."

Ed's face goes white.

"So could this enemy have done anything otherwise?"

"He could have got out of town while he still had the chance."

Ed nods and I think he's got the idea. But as I step through the door he speaks again.

"For the record, I think you're more than just her friend or her partner. She'll do the same to you that she did to me. To Sean. You're no different than the rest of us."

"I think I'll take my chances, just the same." If he won't respond to reason, maybe he'll respond to Hector.

It's late enough to be early by the time I get back to the office. I leave my hat, brim up, on my desk and sink down into the couch to close my eyes for a little while. When I wake again, it's light out and I can hear my staff in the outer office.

I exit my office to find Branch and Vic standing at the coffee maker arguing about the amount of sugar and cream Vic uses and whether or not it still qualifies as coffee when she's done. I envy Branch in that moment. I want that easy, playful banter with her. I grab my own cup of coffee and lean against the wall as they update me on what I've missed this morning.

Branch hasn't had any luck with the passcode on the phone. Vic and Ferg are working on tracking down Polina's parents, but they've stumbled into some sort of web of rehoming troubled adopted children. This case is going to prove to be a challenge.

The next few days are much of the same, though we do get a break in the way of Ruby posing as an adoptive parent looking to rehome her troubled Russian child. This leads us into a whole underworld of rehoming that I wouldn't think could possibly be legal, but Cady confirms there are no laws prohibiting it.

In the end, our investigation leads us to a reform school in Arizona. The ride is almost entirely silent. I don't ask about Ed and she doesn't offer. I think I see her start to say something a few times, but she never follows through. We talk to the family Polina was rehomed with. And we get the name of security guard named Norwood Young whom Polina's classmates suspect of knowing where she is. Vic calls Branch to have him set up monitoring on Young's credit cards and Vic and I call it a night.

As it turns out, we've been booked into adjoining rooms. When I can't get my keycard to work, Vic comes to my rescue.

"And they say chivalry is dead."

This earns me a real smile, which is more than I've gotten out of her in the past three days. At work she's her usual self, you'd never know a jealous ex-lover is stalking her or that she'd recently slept with and subsequently pushed away her current boss. I should be grateful that she's able to maintain her professionalism, even if it's just a front. But with every passing day it gets more difficult for me to do the same. I want her to want me to help her with this and not try to do it on her own. I don't want her to worry about getting me hurt, because honestly, this hurts more than anything Ed could be capable of.

Her fingers brush mine as she hands me the keycard and it's like a jolt of electricity. I know it sounds cliché, but even despite the last few days there's something electric between us.

"Goodnight." She says softly. And all the possibilities I'd been imagining disappear into thin air.

"Goodnight."

I sit down on the bed and put my head in my hands. I don't want to believe that Ed could be right about Vic and me, but it's getting harder and harder to push that thought out of my mind as she pushes me away. I toy with the idea of knocking on her door, but I don't want to spend the rest of this trip stuck in a car with my pissed off deputy. In the end, I decide not to chance it. I strip down and put on sweat pants and a t-shirt and get ready to go to bed. I've no sooner turned out the lights than I hear a knock at the adjoining door. My heart skips a couple beats before I remember I need to breathe and go unlock the door. Chances are better that we've got a hit on Young's credit card than that Vic would come to me now.

I run a hand through my hair and turn the light back on so I don't trip on my way to the door. I open the door to find Vic standing before me in a tank top and pajama pants.

"We got a hit on the credit card I ask?"

Vic shakes her head, but she doesn't say or do anything else.

"What, then?" I ask. I know I sound like an asshole, but I can't take much more of this.

"I don't want him to be right." The words just spill out of her. "But I'm afraid he is. I'm afraid I'll just hurt you in the end. It's what I do. And I don't want to do that to you. I don't think I could live with myself if I did. And if I don't do the damage myself, he will. He wants to see me suffer like he did. And I can't let that happen, Walt."

She doesn't see that she's already letting it happen. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy and she can't help but fall into the trap Ed's already set. I'm not sure what she would think if she knew I threatened him, so I don't tell her. Instead, I step across the threshold and pull her into my arms like I've wanted to do for the last three days. She's not crying. I think she might be cried out at this point. She breathes deep as she winds her arms around my waist, like she's trying to commit the smell to memory. If I have it my way she'll never have a need to do this again.

"He's wrong, Vic." I reassure. "He's wrong. You're not that person anymore. This isn't even close to the same thing. And Sean…even you said you two just weren't compatible. But you can't push me away because you're afraid you'll hurt me or that I'll get hurt. I can handle Ed, but I need you to let me help you."

She nods against my chest. I pull away a little to look at her. "When's the last time you slept?" I ask.

She shrugs and I take her hand to pull her into my room. I don't bother shutting the adjoining door. I lead her over to the bed and pull the covers on the other side down.

"Just lay down." I say softly next to her ear. "You don't have to sleep. You don't even have to stay. Just lay down for a little while."

Vic nods and slides under the covers. I turn off the light and lie down next to her. To my surprise, she moves immediately into my space. I suspected these last few days had been as hard on her as they were on me, and now I have the proof. It helps a little to soothe that aching emptiness I've been feeling. I loop an arm around her waist and haul her in the rest of the way to lie against me.

Before long her breathing steadies and slows and I know she's asleep. It doesn't take long for me to follow. I haven't slept much either. As it turns out it's her keeping the nightmares at bay. Without her my dreams terrorize me.

When I wake again, she's gone. It's still dark out and I look to the clock to find that it's 1:30AM. I get up and check Vic's room and find it empty. After a moment I hear the toilet flush and I breathe a sigh of relief. She's walking out just as I come back into the room.

"Everything okay?" She asks sleepily.

"Yeah." I nod.

"I thought if he knew I'd hurt you myself, he'd leave you alone." She admits quietly. "I didn't count on it hurting this much."

She leans her forehead against my chest and wraps her arms around my waist. Soon she shifts and I feel her lips on my neck and her hands sliding under my t-shirt. I move the strap of her tank top out of the way and kiss along her neck and shoulder. She shivers under my touch and I feel the goosebumps break out over her skin. Vic's hands slide over my chest and shoulders underneath my t-shirt. I pull my shirt off, giving her free range. From there we back up toward the bed and it doesn't take long before we're tangled in a sweaty pile of limbs and sheets.

When I wake again, sunlight is streaming through the cheap curtains. The alarm clock on the bedside table tells me it's just past 7:00AM. My left arm is numb under the weight of the woman in my bed and I wouldn't have it any other way. I roll on to my side and brush the hair away from her neck so I can kiss the soft skin there.

"Mmmm. A girl could get used to waking up like this." She mumbles sleepily.

I smile against her skin. This is the only way I ever want to wake up again. "You could." I whisper against the shell of her ear. "I could make it happen."

She turns to face me. "I really am sorry, Walt. I—"

"That's enough." I kiss her gently. "What's done is done. We'll figure this out, I promise."

She nods and kisses me again. Before we can go any further her phone pings from the other room. Vic groans as duty calls and she pulls away. She returns a minute later with her phone in hand.

"We've got a hit on Young's card."


End file.
